The Truce in the Trenches
by Twinings
Summary: A very Squishy Christmas it may be, but something's clearly missing...MINIONS!  [CAT]
1. We wish you a merry Christmas

_Disclaimer: I own, or at least have permission to use, the characters of the Captain, Al, and Techie. The other characters in this story, not so much._

_I was going to hold on to this one until Christmas, but I've changed my mind. I feel rather bad about not posting anything for a while, and since I suspect there may be another break in my future, I'm going to try to get a few things up as quickly as I can._

_I hereby dedicate this fic to the S.C. Monster who lived in my closet when I was four, and to the pretty lady with the halo who protected me from him. Neither strictly real people, I know, but still, this story is for them. For him because I still can't sleep with the closet door open, and that kind of irrational fear is fitting for a story about the Scarecrow's henchmen. And for her because she didn't just shield me--she taught me how to outwit the monster and then made me stand up for myself._

_They were recurring characters in my nightmares. Every night for nearly two years. I was very young. Can you blame me for believing they were real?_

_Mentally unbalanced dedication aside (and trust me, it could have been worse) this takes place on Christmas Eve, 2012, the day after "A Very Squishy Christmas." The timeline (www. freewebs. com/ catverse) has it wrong, mainly because I have no sense of time and can't be trusted to keep my dates straight, anyway. Erm...for example, I just said this came the day after "A Very Squishy Christmas" when, in fact, they both occur on Christmas Eve, which is, for those of you keeping score at home, the _same_ day. Still, you should probably read that one before this._

ON TO THE STORY!

* * *

_The Truce in the Trenches_

The date was December 24, and no one was happy. This might be the time for peace on Earth and goodwill toward men, but the three women in the VW bus looked like someone had run over their puppy.

That wasn't too surprising, really. Al was too close to her family not to miss them around the holidays. The Captain wasn't close enough to hers to miss them as much as she would have liked. And as for Techie…well, the Captain didn't know what was wrong with her Chief Operations Officer, but she could only assume it had something to do with the friends they were unable to see, being legally dead and all.

Captain was trying to make the best of things, but without her "Strange Christmas" CD, which had of course been left behind in the Scarecrow's lair, she wasn't going to be able to feel anything but holiday depression. Without "Christmas in Hell" she just…well, it _did_ feel like Christmas in Hell. She must have lost her sense of humor somewhere along the way if she really needed the crutch.

"We shouldn't be doing this," she said. "Since when do we just sit around and mope about a problem when there's something we could do about it?"

"What can we do?" asked Al. "We're still dead, you know."

"I know. I wasn't suggesting interaction. Just observation. The observation of the Gothamite in its natural habitat."

"Great," Techie said dryly, without looking up from the arduous task of filing her nails.

The cavalier tone set the Captain's teeth on edge.

"Fine, then!" There was nothing within reach to knock over, so she threw open the car door and stalked out into the snow. The others followed cautiously.

"Captain, what's your problem?" asked Al. The Captain turned away.

"It's Christmas."

"But you love Christmas." The Captain glared at her.

"_Do_ I?"

"Yes," said Techie.

"I _hate_ Christmas!" the Captain exploded. "I hate it, okay? There! I said it! I! Hate! Christmas! I HATE IT! I only put up with it for _you_, Al! _You_ love Christmas! It makes _you_ happy! It makes _me_ want to die inside, okay? I _hate_ it. It's a horrible time that serves only to remind you of everything that's wrong with the world and how you'll _never_ measure up to what you should have been and how life is just _hopeless_! Everything they try to tell you is a lie. Every word of every stupid Christmas movie is a lie. Everything they tell you when you're a child is nothing but a lie. Holiday spirit. Family togetherness. _Love_. It's no more real than a smile that the Joker plants on your face just before you die."

Her friends looked horrified.

"Oh, what?" the Captain snapped. "Don't tell me you're surprised. You're both too old to believe in Santa Claus. I don't—" She burst into tears. "I don't believe in Santa Claus, I don't believe in fairies, I don't believe in magic; it's all just Joker Venom and none of it is real!" Her friends still looked horrified. They hadn't moved. "He's standing right behind me, isn't he?"

It was a joke. A _joke_. They were supposed to laugh, break the tension, sweep the emotional outburst under the rug, and get on with their lives.

They didn't laugh.

"He's standing right behind me," she repeated, and turned to face the Joker, who was waiting with a patient grin.

"Merry Christmas," he said when he had her undivided attention. The flower in his lapel sprayed her with a bright green HAPPY SHINE FUN TIME CHRISTMAS JOKER SMILE TIME MERRY CHRISTMAS HA!

She fell back, giggling hysterically. MERRY CHRISTMAS! **MERRY CHRISTMAS**! What a joke! It was CHRISTMAS and it was MERRY and the JOKER said it! It was the funniest thing she had ever heard! Ha ha HA it hurt to laugh, and that was even MORE hilarious! Why were her friends screaming? How were they breathing this crazy air?

"Air!" she enthused. "Air rhymes with hair rhymes with scare rhymes with mer-ry!" Ha ha HA!

"That's better," said the Joker. " Holiday cheer—my gift to you!" And he joined her for a round of maniacal laughter, although she was wheezing too much to give him any competition for sheer exuberance.

Wait a minute—was the Captain really cackling like a mad scientist? She didn't _do_ that! She had a maniacal giggle, but she never did the full-blown laugh that Al was so fond of.

And yet, here she was matching glee with the Joker. The Joker! Ha-ha-HELL, she was going to die!

She sobered just long enough to draw one full breath. Then she indulged in a little of her trademark demented giggling…which grew into another round of maniacal cackling. The Joker glowed with pride.

"My work here is done! Happy Holidays, kiddies." He turned to prance away, kicking up snow as he went.

"Happy!" She gasped. "Ha-ha-holidays!" She closed her eyes and fell back in the snow.

Was she going to die?

To die _would_ be an awfully big adventure. And it was Christmas. When else was she going to do it?

At least this way she would go out thinking of Captain Hook and Inigo Montoya, and ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha…

Everything went black. That was probably no bad thing.


	2. Good tidings we bring

After the Captain lost consciousness, she experienced a hallucination the likes of which few people had ever seen and lived to tell the tale.

Let it be known that the Captain was not a teller of tales. She never did tell her friends what it was that she had seen. For one thing, she would have had to explain the "Santa Claus was the monster in my closet" story, and she didn't want to get into that. It might get back to the Scarecrow one day, and then she would never live it down.

It will have to be enough to say that the Captain took a magical sleigh ride to the North Pole as the Joker's copilot, faced her childhood fears, discovered the true meaning of Christmas, performed a lavish musical number with Frosty the Snowman and the Snow Miser, discovered and subsequently forgot (for the _fourth_ time) the meaning of life, trained in a forgotten martial art with a cigar-smoking elf who bore a striking resemblance to a diminutive David Bowie, discovered the meaning of figgy pudding, and on the whole came away better for her hallucinatory experiences.

She woke up gasping, "Pudding!"

Her friends were by her side in an instant.

"Captain," Al said urgently. "What's seven times four?"

"Pudding," the Captain repeated dazedly. Al sighed with relief.

"She's okay."

"How do you feel, Captain?" asked Techie.

"Funny…"

"Funny ha-ha or funny peculiar?" she had to ask.

"Funny…radioactive." She blinked at the light shining in her eyes. "Did you get halos, or is that the Star of Bethlehem?"

"Neither, smeghead. It's a fluorescent light. You're in a hospital bed. And, yes, you _do_ need to be here, so I don't want to hear any argument. Another minute without the antidote, and you'd have laughed yourself to death."

"Oh." Captain shrugged. "Okay, then. But why did he squirt me?"

"Spreading holiday cheer," Al guessed. "Half the people in the ER looked way too happy to be there."

"Okay, then. I'll remember not to mouth off about Christmas crap next year. Can we go now?"

"They probably want to keep you here for observation," Al said doubtfully. The Captain squirmed.

"I hate hospitals," she muttered.

"Seconded," said Techie.

"Thirded. Every time I show my face in a hospital, someone dies."

They left by the window. Since the Captain hadn't been given a _private_ room, this caused a bit of a stir. But they were past caring.


	3. Now bring us some figgy pudding

Given a choice, Al and Techie would have taken their giggling friend to one of Gotham's numerous free clinics, where they could have hoped for a degree of anonymity. Since they didn't know of any nearby, and time was of the essence, they had done the next best thing and mugged a random woman for her ID and insurance car before stopping by the hospital. The staff had been far too busy to notice any discrepancy. And so, the Captain found herself pumped full of the finest chemical cocktail Kelly Beth Pierson's insurance could buy.

Maybe that was why she was so easily distracted.

"Shouldn't the hospital be exploding right about now?" she asked as they walked away.

"That would be plenty dramatic, but no, Captain, I don't think the hospital has any reason to explode."

"Joker blew up a hospital yesterday. I can't imagine he'd stop with just one."

"The Joker has moved on to other things," Al reminded her. "Now, come on. The Frohike is this way."

"But…" The Captain pointed toward the park. "I saw Harley."

"Oh, not _her_," Techie groaned.

"We've got to follow her."

"Might be fun," Al agreed.

"Why? She's just going home to Ivy. There's nothing to see."

"But she had someone with her."

"Ivy?" Techie repeated.

"No, a man. She's bringing a _man_ home to Ivy's lair. Something is going to happen, and it will be spectacular."

There was really no arguing with that. So a-spying they did go.


	4. For we all like figgy pudding

The girls' stealth abilities varied at times, from "ninja mode" to "herd of elephants." The Captain was particularly effective as a ninja—when she wasn't heavily sedated and still fighting off the effects of Joker Venom and its opposite number.

Accordingly, ninja mode was out. Still, they managed not to draw any attention to themselves as they settled into a pocket of green where they could peer down into Poison Ivy's underground home without being spotted. The visuals weren't great, but they could hear just fine.

"Hey, Red!"

"Harley's home," Techie muttered. Al perked up. "You can't go down and _visit_ her, you know. We're still supposed to be dead."

"I know, I remember. Not retarded. Hi."

"Yeah, yeah. What do you see in her, anyway? She's like an ambulatory squeaky toy."

"Whatever happened to, 'It's healthy to have friends'?" Al murmured, leaning forward to peer through the green. "Did we miss something important?" They all went silent and watchful.

"Harls, I'm not running a hotel here," Poison Ivy said sternly.

"Please?" Harley flashed some very effective puppy dog eyes. Ivy visibly wilted. "He needs a place to stay, just for a little while. Come on, Red. It's cold out, and he's hurt, and he's all alone. And hungry."

"Oh, so that's why you like her?" the Captain teased. The others shushed her.

"I told you, I don't _want_ to stay," came the voice of Harley's unseen male companion.

"Oh, come on, Professor. You don't think we'd really let you stay alone out there, tonight of all nights?"

"Professor?" Al whispered.

"Yes, I do!"

"He's right, Harl," said Ivy. "If we're going to keep pets, I'd think my plants and your hyenas would be enough for anyone. Nothing personal, Jonathan."

"Jonathan?" Al squealed, and clapped a hand over her mouth. They all jockeyed about, trying to get a look at the guest. Too bad their view was blocked. He seemed to be trying to stay as near to the exit as possible.

"I don't want to be your pet! What _is_ it about you insufferable women and your need to collect cuddly things?!"

Harley disappeared from sight, and the tirade cut off abruptly.

"Sit down and enjoy your Christmas!" she bellowed in a voice utterly unlike her usual bubble-and-squeak. A violent shove sent Jonathan Crane stumbling out into the room.

The girls let out a collective squee, which turned into a collective "Aww!" followed by a collective shush.

He wasn't looking at all well. In point of fact, he looked like a drowned rat that had been trodden on by a tap dancer.

"He's wet."

"He's bleeding."

"He's bruised."

"He's shivering."

"He's lost weight."

They all stared at each other.

"He _does_ need us!"

"You aren't going to touch anything, are you?" Ivy asked with a disdainful glare. "I don't want to wake up in the morning to find that one of my babies has gone into your toxin."

"I don't _want_ to stay here; I _told_ Harley that. I don't want your…help." He waved them away with his left hand, holding his right arm close to his body in a way that just screamed of pain.

"Time for a daring rescue?" Al whispered eagerly. Her companions wanted—very much—to agree, but their hopes were dashed by the Captain's dreary practicality, a sure sign that her higher mental functions were returning.

"We're still supposed to be dead. We can't just go bursting in there and announce, 'We're back from the dead and ready to kick some ass!' It just doesn't work that way."

"Maybe he'll be okay," Al said doubtfully. Techie snorted.

"With the tree-bitch? She's going to do something to him. I don't know what, but she's going to try something, and then I'll have to kill her." She said it so matter-of-factly, the others couldn't have found fault with her logic even if they'd wanted to.

The Captain did interject, "_We'll_ kill her."

Al shushed them both and directed their attention to the spectacle below, which wasn't going to stop just to let them have their conversation.

Ivy was waving a hand, and the plants were stirring all around them. Techie made a sound uncomfortably like a growl.

But when one vine knocked the Scarecrow's feet out from under him, another was there to catch him before he fell. They looped around behind him, forming something like a hammock—or a chair?

"I won't tell you to make yourself comfortable, because this is only for tonight. Don't touch _anything_." She stalked over to the break in the foliage that, presumably, led to her private bower. Then, with an irritated sigh, she turned back. "All right, Harl, stop _looking_ at me like that. You might as well get him something to eat. And take a look at that wrist. You see the plant with the long, pointy leaves? Take one. Not a handful. _One_. And don't go digging anything up. And _stay out_ of my room."

That last was spoken like a petulant teenager annoyed by her younger brother. It might have been impossible to _slam_ a curtain of vines, but Ivy managed to convey the impression beautifully.

"You want somethin' to drink?" Harley asked, as if nothing at all was wrong. Without waiting for his answer, she turned around and started fussing with one of the plants, turning one of its leaves into a cup into which it poured an unidentified pink liquid.

"Think she's trying to poison him?" Techie grumbled.

"Too complicated," said Al. "Besides, this is Harley. Probably the only Gotham villain who can wish you a merry Christmas and mean it."

As much as she hated to say it, Techie had to voice her thought.

"So he's going to be okay with them."

"He'll leave here in one piece as long as he behaves himself," drawled an unexpected voice from behind them. "I can't say the same for you three." They all looked up at Poison Ivy like guilty schoolchildren caught in the middle of a prank.

"Oh, hi. Um…we can explain."


	5. We won't go until we've got some

"Oh, hi. Um…we can explain."

"Can you do it quietly? You wouldn't want _him_ to find out you're still alive. He's having a rough enough time of it already."

They all stood to face her, wary of a surprise attack from the surrounding foliage. Everything remained still.

"Why aren't you making a grab for the Captain's title?" Al demanded. Poison Ivy raised an eyebrow.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Bitch-God," the Captain clarified. "You weren't nearly so civil before. What gives?"

"Harley," Ivy said with a shrug. "She thinks your Professor Crane is 'a funny guy who just needs some help loosening up.' Who am I to ruin her Christmas by killing someone she likes who _doesn't_ treat her like a punching bag?"

"You're full of holiday cheer, aren't you?" Al said, almost accusingly, and laughed. Poison Ivy looked offended.

"No!"

"I understand," said the Captain. "Neither am I. Christmas is a horrible time—I'm guessing your main objection is the murder of all the pine trees, holly and poinsettias, right? Add some old memories to the mix, and you hate that you can even consider feeling warm and fuzzy at such a time, no matter how intrusive those feelings can be. This whole time of year sucks, and twits like these," she said with an affectionate smile for her two friends, "can take their joy and shove it up their asses with a holiday wreath."

A peculiar change came over Poison Ivy's face just then. Her mouth tightened. The corners of her eyes crinkled slightly. Her skin…changed. It couldn't be called blushing, exactly, but her face went a much deeper shade of green.

Then she smiled. She even made a sound that could legitimately be termed a laugh. It was painfully self-conscious, but it was real.

"Merry Christmas!" Al cheered, and threw her arms around the plant-lady's shoulders.

Ivy stiffened, and a handful of vines swept down to pull Al away from her. Techie tensed, prepared for the battle she had been expecting all along, but the vines didn't do anything more than mark a minimum safe distance.

"Sorry," the Captain said on behalf of her first mate. "We'll…just be going."

"Merry Christmas," Al repeated in a frighteningly bubbly voice.

"Uh…yeah. Merry Christmas." She said it grudgingly, with a definite air of _shut up and get out of my home_, but she said it. Techie and the Captain pulled Al toward the open air of the park before she could glomp the villainess again.

"Thanks for not killing us. And especially thanks for not killing _him_." Ivy shrugged uncomfortably.

"I suppose he's as entitled to shelter from the storm as any other meat-creature. And as for you, I'd be just as glad to pretend I never saw you here."

"Excellent plan," Al said brightly as the others began to physically drag her away. "We won't bother you again. And we'll decorate a plastic tree in your honor." With a disgusted sigh, Poison Ivy turned to go back inside. "Take care of the meatbags! Happy Christmas!"

She started walking on her own just in time for the Captain to give up on movement and lay her head on her first mate's shoulder.

"You really love Christmas."

"Of course I do. It's the most wonderful time of the year. Christmas is magic, and it's _not_ all lies. There _is_ such a thing as love. And family, oh sister-I-never-had."

"And fairies," Techie piped in.

"And Santa Claus."

"Not Santa Claus," the Captain said with a shiver. "But, okay, I'll give you magic and fairies and family and…love. But only because it's snowing."

The three of them walked back to the Frohike, arm in arm, discussing the likelihood of Poison Ivy spilling the secret of their continued existence, and their dear Squishy's reaction if he learned the truth. On this night, they could hope that they would be with him again soon, and (even slimmer possibility) that he would be happy to see them.

Until that time came, they had each other. And there was just enough Christmas left to make a happy holiday, after all.

There was pie.

High above the city, invisible to them, the stars shone on.

* * *

_As always, thanks for reading. Next up is the unrelenting fun of Techie's "The Unemployment Scam." It'll be nice to go back to humor and explosions, yes?_


End file.
